Page 43 of My Pucking Enemy (The Milwaukee Frost #4)

“Uncle Luca!”

Where one goes, another is sure to follow, and there are only a few seconds between the first little pair of arms flying around me and the second immediately after.

Their voices fill Callum and Sloane’s entryway as they speak over one another, telling me about everything from the flavor of the cake to how big the presents are.

“We’re going up!” I announce, to which the twins giggle and squeeze tight to me. I grab them around the middle and stand, lumbering forward like I’m a giant and they’re urchins stuck to me.

“Again, again!”

“Give Uncle Luca a rest,” Sloane orders, and the twins obey, turning around and setting their sights on their father instead. Sloane is practically glowing, and I suspect that even two years later, it’s still from the feat of keeping her secret about twins from all of us—including Mom and Dad.

“Come on,” I say, ruffling Sloane’s hair. She swats at me, backing up and rolling her eyes. “It’s their birthday.”

She holds up a finger, waggling it at me. “Uh-uh, today is Georgie’s birthday. Tomorrow is Holland’s.”

I nod, remembering her plan to make sure each of the twins would always get a special birthday celebration. “Right.”

“Wren is in the kitchen,” Sloane says, shoving my shoulder gently before turning and following her toddlers down the hall.

“That’s never good,” I mutter, my body already moving in the direction of my fiancée like I’m programmed to be near her. I do find her in the kitchen, though she’s not anywhere near the stove, just sitting at the island with Ruby and chatting.

When I walk up behind her and put my arm around her shoulders, Ruby laughs.

“You’re lucky your fiancée didn’t just hip toss you onto the ground, with an approach like that,” she says.

“Oh, little did you know, Ruby, that’s what I was hoping for.” I say, grinning.

Wren twists around and stands, pulling me into her arms. Even though we saw each other this morning, she hugs me like I’ve been at sea, and I love her for it. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much, to feel full-up and still want more.

“Won’t be your fiancée for much longer,” Wren says, before pressing a quick kiss to my lips. Next weekend, we’re getting married. Her grandmother will be there, and Wren is wearing a slightly modified version of her Gran’s wedding dress.

My second marriage.

But the first one that will really count.

It’s been a long engagement, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

I didn’t propose to her because I needed to get married as soon as possible, I did it because I wanted her to know I was serious.

And since then, we’ve picked out a place together—somewhere without furniture chosen by Mandy—and have spent our time either traveling with the team or staying in.

I cook for her, and she picks the most gruesome horror movies for me to watch even though she’s always the one who ends up afraid in the end.

“Are we still good for Monday?” Sloane asks, coming back into the kitchen and reaching into the fridge to pull out a massive pink cake. Her gaze darts between me and Wren.

“Of course they are,” Astrid says, breezing in as well, looking tanned from her and Grayson’s trip to somewhere tropical. The two of them have been traveling almost nonstop anytime we’re outside of the regular season.

And we are now, having only made it through the first round of the playoffs before falling out of the competition.

It’s fine—this year and last year we knew we weren’t going to make it to the Stanley Cup.

Wren and I planned accordingly for Cal’s absence, which the entire league went wild about when they found out.

A player taking off not one, but two seasons during his prime. It’s never been done before, but I’m glad that he had the balls to do it. Setting an example for the other fathers, being there to help Sloane.

Especially considering she had twice as many babies to take care of.

“Time for cake,” Sloane announces, when she’s finished putting the candles in. To the hallway, she calls, “Ready?”

The lights flip off, causing the toddlers to squeal, and Cal calls back, laughing, “Ready!”

We’re a procession of people following after Sloane into the dining room, where a squirming Georgia sits in her chair, her face lit up with joy and the flickering light of the candles.

Wren stands next to me, her arm looping around mine, and we all sing “happy birthday” together, mostly off key but somewhat okay near the end.

Sloane shows Georgia how to blow out the candles. In the mess that follows—both Georgia and Holland getting covered in pink frosting, I realize Wren has slipped away.

I find her out on the patio, sitting in one of the pool-side chairs. It’s a bit too cool now to swim, but she’s just sitting and staring at the water.

That day flashes back to me—my sister inviting Wren over here for a pool party—and I’m glad that my family was able to call me on my shit. If they hadn’t, I would have missed out on the love of my life.

“Hey,” I say, standing at the edge of the pool and watching as Wren turns to look at me. “Want some company?”

It’s when she nods that I realize there are tear tracks running down her face. I cross the patio instantly, and she stands when I get near her so I can fold her into my arms.

“The family thing again?” I whisper. This is something that happens to Wren occasionally when we’re with my family. A reminder that as much as she loves and fits in with my people, she will never really have people of her own.

It’s not sad, Wren has told me. But just bittersweet. Something she’ll always have to deal with. So when I notice it’s happening, we deal with it together.

“Kind of,” she answers, and I pull back, searching her face.

“What do you mean?”

She swallows, glances at the water again, as though looking to it for answers. Finally, on a sigh, finding my gaze again, she says, “I’m not sure I’m going to be a good mom.”

“You will,” I say, instantly. Wren and I have talked about having kids—we want to, but we’re not going to push it if it doesn’t happen. She’s not interested in IVF, and we could both be happy without, if that’s what it comes to.

But I know she would make an excellent mother. And I’d love the opportunity to be the father of her children, to show my kids the kind of love my parents have always shown me.

“I guess we’ll find out,” she says, her voice choked, and it’s at this moment that I realize why she’s crying, and it sends first a flash of cold, then hot through my entire body.

“Wren.” I pull back, look her over as though I might be able to spot visible changes. “Are you…are you sure?”

In true Wren fashion, perhaps knowing that I would want to see if for myself, she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. Labs from the doctor.

She’s pregnant.

Joy floods through me, impossibly bright, so warm and fizzing that I can taste it. I scoop her up into my arms, making her squeal and drop the paper, which lands in the pool, the ink bleeding as it sinks away into the depths.

“Luca,” she admonishes, looking up into my eyes. “You’d better be careful with me. I’m carrying precious cargo.”

“And I’m carrying you, from now until your due date,” I say, holding her tight to my chest, burying my face in her hair.

“Are you crying?” she asks, and when I pull back, she reaches up to wipe the tears from my face.

“I just can’t believe I’m really getting everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. You still can’t beat me at pool.”

“Unlike my sister, I know how to set realistic goals.”

Wren laughs, and when I lean down to kiss her, I’m stopped by the lights on the deck flashing.

“Uh, hello?” Katie calls from the deck, waving her arm like we’re two boats passing at sea. “Get the hell in here, guys! We’re going to do presents, and I need everyone to see that I got the best one!”

“What are you guys doing out here?” Astrid asks, appearing behind Katie.

“He’s going to throw her in the pool,” Maverick says, to which Ruby shoves him lightly, and Leo, their son, laughs at the exchange.

“You already proposed, Luca,” Sloane hollers, appearing next. “Or did you forget that?”

Then Cal shows up behind his sister, and when our eyes lock, I know he knows. We have best friend telepathy like that. And he also knows that right now, Wren and I just want to revel in this for a bit longer.

“Come on, guys,” Cal says, ushering them all back inside. “We’ll start presents in just five minutes.”

“Perfect,” Wren whispers, her eyes flying to mine as the others disperse. “Is that enough time to strategize on how we’re going to keep this a secret?”

I laugh, bring my mouth down to hers, knowing I’ll remember this moment in the backyard, the sound of the pool lapping quietly at my feet, the low hum of everyone we love just on the other side of the wall from us.

“Well, it is what we do best.”

I truly love Luca and Wren's story and I hope you do too.